


Do I Know You?

by DaniStormborn



Series: Tales from the Keep (vol. I) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniStormborn/pseuds/DaniStormborn
Summary: While at the Orlesian masquerade, Circe Trevelyan is accosted by a dapper, very charming and very familiar looking gentleman. She feels sure she knows him, but at the same time, she can't quite put her finger on how.****“My name is Aedan Cousland . . .”Circe’s eyes widened and she released a gasp of shock. “The Hero of Ferelden . . .!” She breathed and immediately scanned the crowd. She looked for the handsome King-Consort of Ferelden she had just shared a dance. She didn’t find him, though – or the boy he had called his son – and realized that she wouldn’t find him.The Hero of Ferelden had disappeared into thin air.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Male Cousland/Morrigan (Dragon Age)
Series: Tales from the Keep (vol. I) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874419
Kudos: 7





	Do I Know You?

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from my account on fanfiction.net. Re-edited and uploaded.

* * *

“I take it this is your first Orlesian masquerade, my Lady?”

He had posed the question to Circe Trevelyan that evening in the grand ballroom of the White Palace. His voice was deep and smooth as silk. He spoke with a peculiarly strong Ferelden accent that piqued her interest. She turned around to greet him, a cool smile on her face. She expected another simpering Orlesian courtier. Instead, she found a man with an intriguing aura she couldn't exactly place. Ensnared by eyes so blue, she thought they resembled sapphires plucked from the earth. They glittered at her through the cut eyeholes of his mask in amusement. The smile that graced his handsome, chiseled features, was charming and kind. His lips were full and sensual. The neatly trimmed beard he sported was as black as his close-cropped hair. He was tall and his body, while lean, was still remarkably fit for the age that showed in his beard. In fact, this man was so handsome and so utterly _Ferelden_ , that Circe could only stand there and gawk for a moment.

“I . . . forgive me, serah, but I . . .” She trailed off, still at a loss for words. The gentleman chuckled and bowed before holding out his hand. She found herself drawn to him in a way she couldn't explain. Feeling not quite like herself, she placed her hand in his. He brushed those sensual lips across the back of it. The smile lingered on his face.

“No, you should forgive _me_ , my Lady Inquisitor! No gentleman should approach a lady without first offering his name!” He spoke, feinting disapproval at himself. “I am _____.”

He spoke his name, but it disappeared from her head the second it registered. She furrowed her brow in slight confusion and shook her head as she took a step closer to him. “Forgive me, serah, but would you mind repeating that? I am afraid that I did not understand you.”

The man’s eyes were lit with a fire of amusement at her words. He gave a respectful incline of his head. “Certainly! Apologies, Lady Inquisitor. I forget my accent can sometimes be too thick for others outside of Ferelden to understand. My name is _____.”

Once again, the name appeared in her head but then disappeared seconds after entering it. This time, she nodded her comprehension while inwardly feeling nothing but confusion. What was this – magic? She sensed that the man standing before her held not a whit of magical talent. So, what could this be, to keep her from knowing this man’s identity? Or better yet, what exactly ensorcelled her so, to make this man’s attention so damn intoxicating?

She also could not get rid of the sneaking suspicion she knew this man from somewhere. The only problem was that she couldn’t put her finger on where exactly she had seen him. Her brows furrowed in confusion again. “Forgive me once more, serah, but do I . . . do I know you?” She asked, and the fires of amusement in his eyes deepened. She knew he was on the verge of laughter so bold and uplifting, she wouldn’t have any choice but to join in with him. He didn’t laugh, though, and for some reason, that disappointed her. She wanted to hear him laugh!

“I suspect that many people know _of_ me, but few know my name – not anymore, at least. That, or perhaps I just . . . have one of those familiar faces. The ones you see everywhere you go, in every crowd.”

That wasn’t it – that wasn’t it at all! But she couldn’t say that without appearing rude, now could she? After a moment, she shook her head and smiled as graciously as she could. It was a smile he readily returned. His gaze had stayed as steady as a heartbeat on hers and she could feel her heart pound in her breast as a result. This man possessed a talent, she knew. He could make a woman think she was the only lady at a ball, a soiree, or a gathering worth noticing. He had a talent of giving someone his complete and undivided attention. To the point where everything else faded away and it was only the two of them in the entire room – nay, the entire _world_!

This man, while most likely not born to the Game, was nonetheless very adept at playing it. Vaguely, she knew he was playing her, as well, but that was another talent he possessed, was it not? The talent of being able to play someone so finely and with such deftness, they hardly realized it or even cared. So long as this handsome man kept his gaze and his attention on you, it didn’t matter what he did. He could do whatever he liked as long as those beautiful blue eyes of his never left yours.

She envied him the talent.

“No, I do not think you have one of those familiar faces, serah. In fact, if I may be so bold, I’d say you have a face that is quite unforgettable!”

This time, he did laugh. Indeed, it _was_ bold and uplifting. So much so that when her laughter joined his and stopped exactly when his did, she ignored how strange it must have sounded. She looked around. Noticing no one there appeared to take notice, her worries disappeared.

“I thank you for your kind words, my Lady Inquisitor.” He arched an inquiring brow and gestured for the dance floor. “May I have this dance?”

She remembered asking Cullen the same thing earlier and him gently refuse her. He used the excuse of his poor dancing skills with a sheepishness that was entirely Cullen. She was disappointed at first, but then passed it by. Instead, she focused on getting to the bottom of the plot to kill the Empress. Now, it seemed like refusing this man’s offer of a dance would be something akin to treason or sacrilege. It shouldn’t be done!

With another gracious smile, she inclined her head and placed her hand in his. She allowed him to steer her into the throng of couples swirling around the polished dance floor. He pulled her into his arms and against him. She had to swallow back her gasp when his arm fit snugly around her waist. He took her hand in his and spun her off into a fluid, expert waltz alongside the other couples. She expected herself to become dizzy but then her gaze once again locked with his. The sensation of dizziness disappeared. It was swallowed whole by the charms and the strength hidden beneath those beautiful eyes of his.

For a moment, she was taken aback by how old his eyes seemed to be. This man had seen more than many men his relatively young age had, and it showed. It added a mature look to him that was respectable. Alluring. Comforting.

“I am afraid you have not answered my question, Lady Inquisitor. Is this your first time at an Orlesian masquerade?” He asked, and Circe couldn’t help but release a giggle that was quite flirtatious. She blushed afterwards, wondering when their tone with each other had changed. His smile threatened to turn upwards into a grin as the amusement remained in his eyes. This man was long used to people flirting with him. He was long used to women and maybe even men wanting him. She had no doubt he would flirt back – as a man who was long used to such things often did. Yet, there was something about him. The way he held himself, maybe even by the underlying steel in his eyes – that told her nothing would come of it. Their words would remain that – innocent flirtation.

For the first time, Circe found herself wondering if he was in a relationship with someone. Did he have a wife, or a mistress, or even a male lover (it _was_ the court of Orlais, after all)? Was he a family man or a vociferous bachelor and playboy?

Instead of asking those questions, she gave another laugh – a lighter one, this time. “Is it that obvious?” She asked, and the gentleman gave a chuckle in reply.

“When I first came to the Orlesian court from Ferelden, my Lady Inquisitor, I was hopeless for the first two years. One eventually gets used to how things are done, though. How the court functions, how to talk to people – and it gets much easier. So, yes, my Lady, it is _very_ obvious.” He chuckled once more. “And who would I be, to leave a beautiful woman bereft in a sea of sharks?”

She gave him a look of curiosity. “You are from the Ferelden court?” She asked, and he nodded.

“I called the Ferelden court my home for at least five years after the Blight. I grew tiresome of the preening nobles. Of the dratted recognition. I longed for something else. I longed for something _more!_ That’s when I moved here, and I would never take it back for the world.”

She gave another laugh. “You left Ferelden politics for Orlesian?” She asked, and he laughed in reply.

“Yes, I suppose it must sound silly to anyone’s ears but my own. I have my reasonings, though. Despite the connections I had back at the Ferelden court, and my wife’s power, there was something I didn’t have there. That something I do have here”

Circe arched an inquiring brow. “And what is that?”

The gentlemen’s smile grew soft then. “Love. The woman I loved was not there. Yes, I . . . I think my wife loved me, but I could not love her, for my heart already belonged to another. In fact, it had belonged to another for a very long time. My love had to leave Ferelden, you see, a long time ago. The last time we saw each other, I promised her that I would not rest until I found her again. She called me a lovesick fool but left with a smile on her face, because she knew a ________ does not go back on his word. So, after I stayed at court for several years and helped my wife ____ Ferelden, I left her. I told no one where I was going, and I sought my love out. It took a long time. But I found her and our son, and together we left Ferelden, for she had not left it by then, not really. We came here, consolidated ourselves at court, and we’ve been here ever since.”

It was so strange to Circe. While he spoke, for a moment, the din of laughter and talk grew so loud, it had overshadowed some of his words. Instead of asking him to repeat himself, she adopted another curious look on her face.

“Your family . . . do you hold power at court?” She asked, and his smile grew wider.

“My love, I suppose you could call her my . . . _mistress._ I am still technically a married man, despite us openly dwelling together with our son as a family here at court. She holds particular power with the Empress.”

“What does she do?”

The gentleman adopted a sly look. “You’ll have to ask her that yourself, my Lady Inquisitor. My love likes to explain what she does, herself. She is rather . . . _headstrong_ , you understand?” Circe nodded.

“What about yourself? Surely, the Empress makes use of you, as well?”

He gave a laugh again. “You make it sound so illicit! No, my Lady, there is nothing illicit between me and the Empress – I am in blissful love with the mother of my child. I _have_ been for little over a decade, now! No, I am what you would call, an . . . _advisor_ , of sorts. I have expertise in certain matters that are quite rare.”

Circe could understand it. The raw power this man possessed, magical or otherwise, was addicting. It was more than a tad intoxicating. What woman did not want a man around her with the kind of talents this man possessed? Even an Empress wished to be gazed upon by such a handsome gentleman and feel she was the only woman he ever lay eyes on in such a way. Even if he did have a mistress he loved more than life itself.

The music had come to a grand finale, and they stepped away from each other. The gentleman gave a deep bow while Circe inclined her head to him. Smiling, he offered her his arm and, touched, she took it. Her hand fit into the crook of his elbow. She could feel the powerful muscles lying inert beneath the thin silk of his shirt. They almost made her swoon.

“You are a beautiful dancer, Lady Inquisitor.” He spoke, and she laughed.

“Blame my mother! Even Free Marcher noblewomen teach their daughters how to dance!”

He laughed then, as well. “Seems like some things stay the same, no matter what country you are in. Ferelden noblewomen do similar things.”

“Do you miss it? Ferelden, I mean.”

He was quiet for a moment before giving a half-shrug. “I miss the home of my birth. I miss the friends I made, some of which I knew when we parted I would never see again. I miss my brother’s family – my _daughters_! But those are the only things I truly miss. I don’t consider it my home. Wherever my love and my son are, _is_ my home.” He smiled then. “On another note, I assume that my love will find you later. She very much wishes to make your acquaintance, my Lady Inquisitor.” He told her, and she nodded.

“Will she know where to find me?” She asked, and the gentleman nodded.

“Oh, do not worry, she will. My ________ has a knack for keeping track of people she finds enthralling . . .”

It was then that Circe noticed the silver ring on his wedding finger. It was a ring that did not resemble a traditional marriage band. Obviously, his wedding band to his Ferelden wife had never graced that finger. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a twisted loop of rosewood. The grain seemed to shift and change from one moment to the next. It took on shapes reminiscent of animals and people. It was a peculiar ring and seemed to radiate power.

The gentleman noticed her attention, and chuckled. Lifting his hand, he twirled the band around his finger as he had once done countless times before. “A gift from my beloved. It is very dear to me . . .”

“It is beautiful.” She spoke, and he smiled and settled her with a piercing stare.

“A word of advice, if I may, my Lady Inquisitor?” He asked, and she nodded.

“Of course.”

His gaze flitted up to the tall, muscular blonde standing in a group on the landing above them. His attention was quite clearly devoted to them. She knew it was Cullen almost immediately, and felt her cheeks enflame with blush. How could she be so cruel as to dance with this man after Cullen had so gently turned her down?

The gentleman’s kind words brought her back down into reality. “Taking it from experience, my Lady Inquisitor, I can tell you that at the end of the day, love _is_ all you need. You have it with that lad up there, so don’t you dare let it go.” His expression became mournful then. “Once again, speaking from experience, I know that saving the world _is_ truly what is most important. But . . . love is what _makes_ saving the world so important! Without it . . . without being able to look forward to it at the end, what world is so important to save?”

His words rang almost achingly true to her. She opened her mouth to speak – to tell him thank you. Two laughing children running past them, interrupted her. They caused him to release a huff of irritation. “ _Kieran_! Kieran, would you _stop_ pestering poor Violetta so?” He called after them but then sighed and shook his head when neither of the children paid him any mind. He gave her an apologetic smile.

“I apologize, my Lady. My son, he is . . . well, he is in the midst of his first crush, you see . . .?”

Circe shook her head and gave him a kind smile. “You don’t need to say anything more, serah. I understand very well how exciting and exhilarating a first crush can be.”

His smile turned thankful as he once again bowed and picked up her hand, where he ran his lips across it once again. Resuming his stature, he grinned and gave her a wicked wink. “It was truly a pleasure making the acquaintance of such a _beautiful_ Lady Inquisitor! I daresay we may meet again . . .?” He asked, and she nodded as he turned and strolled off into the crowd. She watched him go and it was as she watched him go, that everything flooded back to her.

_Cousland . . ._

_Court of Ferelden and the Queen Anora . . ._

_Throne . . ._

_Morrigan . . ._

_“My name is Aedan Cousland . . .”_

Circe’s eyes widened and she released a gasp of shock. “The Hero of Ferelden . . .!” She breathed and immediately scanned the crowd. She looked for the handsome King-Consort of Ferelden she had just shared a dance. She didn’t find him, though – or the boy he had called his son – and realized that she wouldn’t find him.

The Hero of Ferelden had disappeared into thin air.

* * *

“I assume that little show amused you?”

Aedan grinned at the raven-haired woman who waited for him in the shadows of the ballroom's upper floor. She had crossed her arms in front of her breasts and cocked one of her eyebrows in unamused inquiry. He gave a jaunty wink as he pulled off his mask before pulling the amulet of concealment over his head. He then promptly handed it to her.

“Yes, it amused me quite a bit, I’m afraid!” He spoke as her hand curled around the golden amulet. She pressed her hand to her chest as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a loving kiss to her lips. She returned his kiss with equal fervor. The fingers of her free hand slipped deep into his pitch-black locks. When they broke apart, Aedan wanted to grin at the flushed look on Morrigan face but held it back. He knew how much it irked her when he called out things she wished he wouldn’t notice.

“I suppose that’s what I get for having a rogue lover, is it not? You’re always breaking into my laboratory and stealing my things!” She spoke, her tone caustic, and he nodded as he moved back in and pressed one last heated kiss to her lips.

"It's not stealing if I always return them . . .!"

Chuckling, she returned his kiss before pushing him away. She turned back to the crowd milling below them. She felt his arms wrap around her waist and pull her against him and allowed it. She was allowing such small actions of affection between them now, and Aedan was glad. What wasn’t the Orlesian court, if nothing but rampant shows of affection towards those you loved?

“Besides, maybe you shouldn’t have such easy locks on your laboratory’s door, my love! Especially if you didn’t want people breaking in!” He spoke with such innocence that she couldn’t help but release a bark of laughter.

“Oh, forgive me for such an oversight!” She teased before nodding her head towards the crowd. “I suppose that is she?” She asked, and he nodded.

“Aye. She is a lovely dancer!”

Morrigan released a scoff of laughter as she placed her hand on his chest beside her head. Her voice was its normal cool tone, but her touch was soft and loving. “Figures that would be the only thing you would take away from such an encounter.”

“She is also beautiful, affluent, and highly intelligent. She noticed the charm the necklace placed on her almost immediately. I do not know if it was thanks to that little Ghost boy constantly around her, but even so . . . do not underestimate her, my love.”

Morrigan shook her head. “I hadn’t planned on it. Was that Kieran that interrupted you?”

Aedan nodded. “Yes, and right on schedule, too.” Morrigan smiled a loving smile at the thought of their son.

“Such an intelligent boy.”

Aedan chuckled and placed a kiss at Morrigan’s temple. “Like his mother.”

She smiled. “And he is handsome . . . like his bullheaded, _insufferable_ father!”

“Who must leave soon.” He reminded her. Morrigan pinned him with a look that he damn near would have taken as pleading if she hadn't masked it with indifference.

“Must you leave so soon?”

He shook his head. “Why must I say goodbye to Kieran for a second time? It will only make things harder if I do not come back.”

Morrigan gave a stubborn shake her head. “You _will_ come back! You’re Aedan Cousland – the Hero of Ferelden! You saved Ferelden from the Blight by doing the impossible. You won the support of the Mages, Dwarves, and the Elves. You found the Urn of Sacred Ashes, you defeated Flemeth, two High Dragons, _and_ an Archdemon! You defeated the Mother. You saved both Amaranthine and Vigils’ Keep among _countless_ other heroic deeds. There isn’t anything you can’t do!”

Aedan gave her a small smile. “You make it sound like me fighting through my Calling is as easy as taking a noonday tea! I wish I had your confidence.” He held up his hand then, the ring visible to them both. “I have your ring, so you’ll know if something becomes of me.” Morrigan nodded, trying and failing to stave off tears.

“I know . . .”

He pulled her close for a moment. “I love you, Morrigan. I love you and I love our son. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think I couldn't conquer it.”

She nodded. “I know. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

Aedan smiled and continued to hold her close. “ _I_ have a feeling you’re going to miss me _so much_ that you’ll beg me home sooner than anticipated!” He spoke, his voice ringing with that infuriating note of confidence that she hated. She snorted in reply.

“Of course! But don’t get your hopes up, Cousland.” She told him, and he chuckled.

“You wait, Morrigan . . . you’ll soon be eating those words . . .”


End file.
